


Back To You

by thefarofixer



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Missing Scene, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 23:00:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14820569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefarofixer/pseuds/thefarofixer
Summary: Between the FBI raid on the east coast and Beacon Hills back in California, there is only Derek and Stiles, and the weight of their shared history.





	Back To You

**Author's Note:**

> This work was written for Solstice, a sterek charity zine. It was super fun to get back into writing for these two characters I love so much after such a long time. Thanks for reading!

Stiles and Derek don’t talk about a lot of things. They enjoy talking to each other, despite all their mutual protests to the contrary, thrill in it even, but the big things, the important things, they don’t talk about. They don’t have to. Stiles looks at Derek, and he just _knows_ that Derek is on the same page as him, that Derek knows what Stiles is thinking because he’s thinking it too. 

So they don’t talk about it. The things they’ve done. How they’ve treated each other. Most especially about the way they feel about each other. 

Sometimes some of it comes out when they fight. Sharp words, crafted to hurt because they know where all the soft spots are. Stiles is more inclined to casual verbal cruelty than Derek is, because after all his sharp words and his sharper mind are the only weapons he has. He doesn’t have fangs and claws and healing like Derek does, just blunt human teeth, a breakable human body and a mind for cataloging weaknesses. It stings when Stiles lashes out like that, it always does, but Derek doesn’t let it hurt for long. After all, for all that Stiles likes to whip truths at people like weapons, his actions speak even louder and he’s caught Derek far more times than he’s let him fall. 

Derek gets his first glimpse at knowing Stiles, really knowing him in the moment when Stiles chooses Derek over the easy, familiar and safe comfort of his own life. It should seem like a simple obvious thing, Stiles skipping out on a lacrosse game in order to help track down a murderer. It’s not really a choice at all, when you put it that way. But it still throws Derek. After all, it’s more than anyone else in this town has done, including Scott who could’ve been something like pack if only he’d gotten over his blind hatred of werewolves. It’s just a glimpse though, of how things could be, and it’s not until Stiles spends hours holding Derek’s stiff, paralyzed body up in the harsh chlorine of the school’s swimming pool, death prowling feet away and only Stiles’ sheer stubbornness keeping them alive that Derek thinks he can say that they truly know each other. 

Afterward, as they’re regrouping, the intimate spell that had stretched between them in the pool broken by the presence of others, Stiles finishes his sentence, finds the word he was struggling to say. He looks at Derek and their eyes meet in a moment of pure understanding and Derek thinks _yes_. 

And Derek thinks _this_. 

He doesn’t say it though. 

There are moments, here or there, where he thinks he might try to bring it up, or that he should. This strange bond they have, where even though they argue and bicker, there are still moments of such unity that it leaves him breathless but something holds him back. Stiles helps him look for Erica and Boyd over the course of a long, hot, lonely summer. Stiles hangs out at the loft with him, carefully avoiding any talk of Scott. Stiles grows his hair out, starts growing into his shoulders and too large hands and feet. They spend a lot of time in silence, which Derek thinks a lot of people would find hard to believe, but why talk when you can just share a glance and know. Half of Stiles’ chatter is a performance, Derek knows, and whatever other issues their relationship has, Stiles has never felt he had to be anything but honest with Derek. 

Neither of them say anything about what they are or aren’t that summer. At the time Derek thinks it’s for the best. Stiles is young. He’s seen and been through far more than anyone his age should, but he’s still young, and he’s not yet quite as broken as Derek is. Derek doesn’t want to be the one to change that. He’s terrified that no matter how gentle he tries to be, his history will rear its ugly head and drag Stiles down into the depths that Derek has been desperately trying to break out of for god knows how many years. 

Later, he’ll sometimes regret this. He has many regrets, some small, some large, and one day he’ll learn to dwell less on them, but letting Stiles go, stepping back for ‘his own good’, is definitely one of them. Stiles ends up being broken down anyways, and it turns out that it’s not Derek who does the breaking. The nogitsune is part of it, sure, but not all of it, and it takes time, for Derek to learn the truth of it all. This, it turns out, is not something he can glean from Stiles from mere glances, instead picking up bits and pieces of asides and sarcastic rejoinders that Stiles tosses his way over time, like puzzle pieces he wants Derek to put together. 

The whole of it is ugly. Basement beatings and betrayals from friends. Kisses because of panic, not love, parties and dances always somehow ending in blood. Sometimes it seems to Derek that Stiles loses more normal teenage milestones to trauma than even he did, things happening in desperation or obligation. Derek tries not to dismiss the moments that Stiles counts important, or the people who get close to him, but sometimes he wonders if it would’ve been better for everyone if he and Stiles had just given in to what they’d wanted from each other, regardless of any excuses they’d given themselves back then. If maybe instead of dragging Stiles down, maybe Derek could have saved both of them some grief, or at the very least offered the both of them some mutual comfort. 

They didn’t though and he can’t change that. They both lose themselves in other people, sometimes for better, sometimes for worse. Years pass and parts of them heal and new parts of them break, and Derek leaves, and he comes back and he leaves again, and he thinks maybe finally he’s so far gone that he’ll never have to face Beacon Hills or its baggage again. 

Only of course as soon as Derek thinks that, suddenly Stiles is right there in front of him. They’re thousands of miles from where they started, but somehow right back to the beginning. Derek thinks it’s a fever dream at first, Stiles rushing into a warehouse in North Carolina after an FBI tactical team, making a beeline for where Derek is ducking for cover, but then he thinks he should never be surprised when Stiles shows up in his life. It’s like they were never even parted, Derek thinks, leaning against each other as they stagger out of another near death experience, sniping at each other to mask the pain. 

They share a hotel room, afterward. After Stiles has raised some meaningful eyebrows at Derek, enough for him to awkwardly bullshit his way through the interrogation from the FBI about what he was doing there and why there’s blood on him but no wounds. After Stiles has managed to fully talk them both out of a situation that probably should have resulted in jail or death for at least one of them, if not both. After Stiles gets his stupid foot swathed in more bandages than were probably necessary, and manages to half impress half piss off the entire FBI team he’d talked his way onto as an intern. They mostly look like they aren’t sure whether they want to throttle Stiles or kiss him. 

Derek can relate. 

It’s strange to see Stiles outside of Beacon Hills. Derek thinks that he likes it. For all that Stiles has carved himself a neat spot within the supernatural hierarchy back in Beacon Hills, it’s different, seeing Stiles almost effortlessly insert himself in a situation he definitely should not have been allowed in, out in the world with people who don’t know the truth of Stiles’ history, who see Stiles as the adult that he is, not the teenager Derek had known before he’d left. 

As effortlessly as Stiles had talked himself onto the task force that had been focused on taking Derek down, he also manages to talk himself out of the remainder of his internship, without even losing any of the credit for it. They seem impressed by Stiles, despite themselves, and Derek wants to say ‘you don’t know the half of it’, but he bites his tongue. After, as they’re crashing down from the adrenaline in the motel room, Derek offers to buy Stiles a plane ticket home so he can get back to Beacon Hills sooner. After all, just because Derek won’t fly back doesn’t mean that Stiles can’t. Stiles quickly rejects the offer, and whether it’s because he doesn’t want Derek’s money or if he truly does feel like going on a road trip with Derek like he claims, or just wants to put off going back to the hell waiting for him in Beacon Hills, Derek is too grateful for the company to push it. 

They talk, as they drive. They talk a lot, more maybe, than they ever have before. Derek wonders if it’s because it’s been so long since they’ve seen each other, or if maybe with some distance from Beacon Hills they both feel lighter, freer. As Stiles tells it during the first leg of their drive, thanks to FBI surveillance Stiles knows a lot more about what Derek has been up to than Derek knows about Stiles’ recent activities, but there are still things Derek can talk about. Stories he’s been storing up that he knows Stiles will appreciate, that Cora didn’t care about and Argent certainly didn’t need to hear. Stiles in turn talks about his internship, about his decision to leave Beacon Hills. He doesn’t say what a relief it was, to leave, but Derek can see it in the weight no longer pressing down on Stiles’ shoulders, the way his eyes light up as he gets excited about something that Derek hasn’t seen in a while. 

It’s a weight that starts to hover over them again, the closer they get to California. They stop for a late afternoon lunch at a diner in Arizona. The route they’ve taken hasn’t been the most direct, but there are certain territories Derek would like to avoid, and Stiles hasn’t complained about any of the circuitous highways they’ve taken. Derek checks the map on his phone while they eat. If they drive all night, switching shifts, they can probably make it to Beacon Hills by morning. Selfishly, Derek doesn’t want to. He wants one more day of just this, just him and Stiles and the road. Of sleeping in motel rooms where Stiles is almost close enough to touch, the steady beat of his heart where Derek can hear it as he falls asleep. 

“It’s up to you,” Derek says, telling Stiles their two choices. 

“Yeah?” Stiles says. “You trust me to make the right decision?” 

“I trust you with everything,” Derek says. There must be something in his voice he hadn’t meant to expose though because Stiles’ head snaps up. He meets Derek’s eyes for a long moment, searching. He must find what he was looking for because a slow, warm smile curls the corner of his lips. 

“We’ll stop for the night,” Stiles says, trying to casually turn back to his food, but he’s still smiling and his heart is racing. “We’ll be no use to anyone if we show up in Beacon Hills dead on our feet from exhaustion. We can rest tonight, get up early and get there by tomorrow evening.” 

Derek lets Stiles fiddle about with his phone for a minute when they get back in the car, setting a destination for them to stop at on the gps. The highways out here are mostly dusty desert, so Derek mostly doesn’t pay attention to where they’re going until it starts to get dark and he sees lights on the horizon. 

“Really, Stiles?” Derek says, but he lets out a short laugh. 

“Vegas, baby,” Stiles crows, but the look on his face is less obnoxious and smug than it should be. Instead his heart beats faster in anticipation, and he glances over at Derek with what might be nerves. 

Thankfully the place Stiles had picked out is nowhere near The Strip. They get a room at a decently clean motel, then Stiles leads Derek to a restaurant down the street that’s a little fancier than Derek would have necessarily thought to pick on a road trip. It’s nice though, being able to sit down to dinner with Stiles like this, as adults, as equals. It’s quiet, but it’s a comfortable silence as they eat, the calm before the storm, Derek thinks before he can stop himself. 

After dinner they walk a little more, to stretch their legs after the long drive, Stiles says. He slips his hand into Derek’s, and his palm is warm and dry, but his heart still skips a beat when Derek entwines their fingers, squeezing Stiles’ hand back. 

“Back to Beacon Hills tomorrow,” Stiles says. 

“Yeah,” Derek agrees. 

“Sounds like things are pretty bad there,” Stiles says. 

“When aren’t they,” Derek replies, and Stiles makes a face at that, and drags Derek to a stop, shifting so they’re facing each other. Derek takes his other hand, feeling like they’ve been doing this forever even if it’s the first time they’ve had this casual purposeful intimacy. “What’s going on?” 

“Look this is a one-time deal, okay? I know we don’t talk about this stuff, but I guess if there’s ever a situation where we should, this is it,” Stiles says, and his hands are trembling faintly in Derek’s. Derek doesn’t think he’s ever seen Stiles this nervous, and they’ve been in too many life or death situations to count. “I know with the luck we have and the lives we lead, the only promise we can make is that we’ll probably die violently. I know the best we can hope for is that we do it together.” 

“That’s always been true,” Derek says. 

“I know, but I don’t want to do this without you anymore,” Stiles says, slowly looking up from their hands. Derek feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest because Stiles is letting everything they’ve ever kept hidden shine through his eyes and across his face. He looks determined in the way he does before a fight, but tonight there’s no enemy, just them. “I know you’re coming back with me this time, but what about next time? Derek, we both left Beacon Hills, we went thousands of miles away, we haven’t talked since we left, hell you got rid of your cell phone, and yet we still found each other. That has to mean something, right?” 

“Yeah,” Derek agrees, because how can he not? “It means something.” 

“Okay, so how about we do something about it…” Stiles trails off and nods his head to the side. Derek looks over, and feels like he should be surprised, but he isn’t. Maybe it was always going to end up like this, a distant part of him thinks. There’s a small chapel across the street. It’s not gaudy or themed, like Derek thinks of chapels in Vegas being. Maybe this one is more for the locals, just ordinary people going about their lives, getting married, settling down, having kids. It’s simple, like this moment between them feels despite their complicated history. 

Derek looks back at Stiles. He almost thinks about teasing him, reminding Stiles that he hasn’t actually asked Derek a question, but then again Stiles doesn’t need to. Derek knows. 

“Yes,” Derek says. He looks down at their tangled hands, then back up at the relieved expression on Stiles’ face. “You’re right. I can’t promise we’ll survive the fight tomorrow. Or the one after that. But this, I can promise. Us.” 

“Okay,” Stiles says, releasing his breath in a heavy exhale, like he’d been holding it. “Let’s go.” 

“One last thing first,” Derek says. He untwines their fingers and gently cradles Stiles’ face in his hands, leaning over to kiss him. Stiles’ eyes flutter closed and Derek loses himself in the moment, here where they’re happy, and safe, and together, no matter what the past or the future holds. 

“Okay,” Derek says, pulling back as Stiles smiles dopily at him, his eyelashes fluttering against his pale skin in a way that has always made Derek’s breath catch. “I’m ready.” 

They cross the street, still holding hands. The night is quiet, and Derek thinks _this_. No matter what happens, they will always have this.


End file.
